Actual Reality
by Dulcineah
Summary: Rentfic. Collins/April, from grade school to April's suicide.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Notes: 

This is a Collins/April story, starting from when they meet at age seven to April's suicide. I've always been interested in Collins, and wanted to get more into his character, since I haven't read many fics that do that. The April piece came into play when I was listening to my soundtrack, and realized that Collins left for MIT right around when April killed herself. It's still a work in progress, so feedback would be especially helpful. Not to mention, it makes me happy. 

This is just the prologue. I'll have the first chapter up shortly. 

**Actual Reality**

By Dulcey 

They think I know things they don't. They assume I'm always even-tempered and put together, and rely on me to patch things up when they fall apart. Good ol' Tom Collins, mentor, shrink, and friend all rolled into one. 

What they don't know is that underneath that assuring facade, I'm as scared as they are, even more. Some of it may be obvious--after all, I've had HIV twice as long as Mimi, and three times as long as Roger. I've caught them sneaking glances at me, contemplating their and my own intertwined fates. I've had the virus the longest, and I'm supposed to be through everything they're facing now. I can't be afraid anymore, at least, not around them. I have to be accepting and reassuring, helping my friends through issues I haven't had the courage to face myself. 

They wouldn't like me as well if they knew the truth. I'm no saint--in reality, I've fucked up just as much as anyone, if not more. Everyone is entitled to a number of screwups, I believe. After all, we're only human. But not ones like I've made. Not ones that ruin the lives of innocent people. 

Roger's the one I feel worst about. He's been consumed with guilt ever since April died. He thinks it was his fault, that he got the virus from those syringes of heroin he used to pass around with his friends at parties. And April. God, April, I'm so sorry. 

Here's something you may not know about me. I'm bisexual. Not gay. I've mostly been with boys, but there have been a few women in my life as well. That may not seem important now, but if I hadn't been that way, things wouldn't have turned out like they had. Here's something else about me. I met Roger, and Mark, and Benny when I was at Columbia, after I'd escaped the South Side of Chicago in pursuit of a better life. And I'd brought my best friend with me, a young Hispanic girl named April Morales who I'd known since I was seven. 

This is for April. 


	2. Chapter 1

Second Grade 

I am seven years old, and this is my first day of second grade. My mom bought me a new backpack, cause I told her my old one was for babies. My pencils are sharpened, I have plenty of paper, and I'm wearing brand new jeans that are still too stiff to run in. I'm excited to be starting school again, but scared because this is a new school and I don't know anyone yet. "You'll be fine, Thomas," my mother assures me, kissing my forehead. "You're my smart boy and I'm so proud of you." 

All the kids have to stay in the gym until eight thirty. I want to find my classroom, but when I try to sneak out, a teacher yells at me. I shrink back against the wall and try not to cry. Only babies cry, and I'm gonna be eight in two months. 

"Whatcha cryin for, kid?" A boy sneers. He's bigger than me, and his mouth is twisted in an ugly way. "Miss your mommy?" 

"No," I say defensively. "I'm not crying." He hits me in the stomach, hard. I bend over and gasp for breath. "You are so crying," he sneers, hitting me again. My lunchbox falls to the floor and breaks open, scattering my lunch everywhere. It's hard to breathe, and now I really am crying. 

"Sissy boy," he cackles, kicking me in the leg. "Stupid sissy boy." 

"Leave him alone, Stephen," a voice orders. I look up for the teacher, but don't see anyone who's noticed what's going on. 

The voice speaks again. A girl's voice. "Stop it." 

"Stay out of this, April," Stephen orders. "Go play with the other girls." 

I see her now, a small, dark-haired girl who doesn't look any bigger than a kindergartener. My heart sinks. 

"I said stop it," she repeated. "Or else." 

"Or else what?" Stephen sneers, raising his fist to hit me again. 

April grabs his arm and twists it behind his back. Stephen shrieks in pain. "Let go!" he cries. "That hurts!" 

"Not until you say you're sorry," the girl insists, twisting even harder. 

Stephen winces. "I'm sorry, April." 

"Not to me, you idiot," she snaps, and nods in my direction. "To him." 

"I'm sorry," he gasps, and then April lets him go. He runs off, holding his arm and crying. 

April helps me to my feet. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah," I mumble. 

"Stephen's a bully, but he won't pick on anyone who fights back," she tells me. 

"Where did you learn how to do that?" I ask her, impressed in spite of myself. 

She grins. "I have three older brothers." 

I get down to gather up the remains of my lunch. April begins to help me. "Thanks," I mutter. "You know, for what you did." 

She brushes aside my thanks. "I hate seeing bullies pick on anyone." She hands me my sandwich, and our hands touch. "Hey, what class are you in?" 

I scan my memory. "Mrs. Jacobs. Second grade." 

"Me too!" she grins. She really has a nice smile. "Want to sit together?" 

I think for a minute. April's nice and all, but she's, well, a girl. Then again, the boys haven't exactly been nice to me. "Okay. Sure." 

"Great." The bell rings, and the kids stream out of the gym. "I'm April." 

I already know this, but I smile and nod anyhow. "I'm Thomas." I snap my lunchbox shut, and we start off towards second grade. 


	3. Chapter 2

Fifth Grade 

"Tom, why are you doing that *now*?" April complained. "It's Friday afternoon! No one does homework on Friday afternoon! Why can't we go home and play?" 

"I told you, we can't," I told her. "I'm not allowed in the house if my mom isn't home, and she's working late today." 

"But why do we have to stay at the library?" She continued. "Can't we go somewhere more fun?" 

I shut my book with a sigh. "Like where?" 

April shrugged. "The park?" 

"I can't. My mom says the kids who hang around there get into trouble. Why can't we go to your house?" 

April's teasing grin dropped off her face. "You know we can't." 

"April, we've been friends for three years and I've never seen your house," I protested. "Why can't we go just this once?" 

She looked down and picked at a scab on her leg. "I don't think it's a good idea." I opened my mouth, but stopped when she shot me a pleading glance. "Please, Tom." 

"All right," I gave in, wondering why she looked so afraid. "But that means we have to stay here until five." 

"You suck," she sighed, flicking a piece of paper at me. I stuck my tongue out at her, and she giggled. 

Things were back to normal. 

Two hours later, the sun was starting to go down. I was finishing up my math homework, and April had given up teasing me and was buried in a book of fairy tales. I put my books back in my backpack, and tapped April on the shoulder. "Hey, Ape-girl, it's time to go." 

"I told you not to call me that!" She protested, socking me in the arm. "Boys suck. All of you. Every single--" She broke off as she saw the darkening sky outside. "Why didn't you say it was getting dark? I'm not supposed to be out!" 

"I'm not either," I pointed out. "But what's the worst our parents can do to us? Send us to our rooms?" 

That fearful look in her eyes was back as she threw on her coat and struggled to put her backpack on. "I know, but my dad's been really strict ever since my mom got sick." 

"Hey, April," I protested, grabbing her by the shoulders. "It was my fault. I'll tell your dad that. You won't get into trouble." 

"Can we just go?" She begged, tugging on my sleeve. "If we get back in ten minutes, I might be able to sneak in without him noticing." 

"Okay, okay," I gave in. I packed up the rest of my things and followed her out of the library. 

The next morning, April wasn't at the bus stop. She didn't show up at school either, and when I knocked on her door that afternoon, her dad said she wasn't feeling well and couldn't come to the door. 

It was a full week later before I saw her again, shivering in her too-thin coat at the bus stop, staring at something on the sidewalk. I ran over to her. "April! Are you better now?" 

She nodded without looking up. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, and I couldn't see her face. "I'm better, thanks." 

"You still don't sound too good," I told her. "You sure you want to go to school today?" 

"I'm sure," she said quickly. "Oh, here, the bus is coming." 

As she looked up , her hair fell back, and I caught sight of a fading bruise on her cheek. I grabbed her arm. "April, what happened?" 

"Nothing," she muttered, pulling away. "I fell and hit my head on the coffee table." 

It was a perfectly logical excuse, but something about it felt wrong to me. "Wow, ouch." 

"Yeah," she shrugged. "But it's no big deal. It's almost gone now." 

The bus stopped and opened its doors. I followed April up the steps. We didn't say another word to each other until we arrived at school. 

Over the next few weeks, April had three more bruises, two on her right arm, and one on her shin. Whenever I asked, she gave a weak excuse and changed the subject quickly. It was obvious she didn't want to talk about it, and maybe I was being a coward, but I didn't want to make her stop talking to me. She was my best friend. She was my only friend. 

Then one day at recess, April disappeared. We usually played on the swings together, and because she was faster, she would run out onto the playground and save one for me. But she wasn't there that day, and I knew she was at school because I saw her in class that day. (She had to sit across the room from me, because we talked too much when we were together). I looked all over the playground for her, but I couldn't find any sign of April. 

The bell rang. Boys and girls started lining up to go back inside. If I didn't go, I'd get in trouble, but I had to find April. What if someone took her? What if something hurt her? 

The woods behind the football field were out of bounds. We weren't supposed to go back there, or we'd get detention. But there were lots of trees to hide behind, and all the teachers were going inside with their classes anyhow. I'd never been back there, but April and I always talked about going and exploring there. Some boy in sixth grade said there was a stream back there, and you could catch bullfrogs. I looked back at the school one more time, and ran into the woods. 

It wasn't as scary as I'd thought. There were a lot of birds in the trees, and it was sunny that day. By now the teacher had to know I was gone. He probably knew April was gone too, though. I just hoped I found April before he found me. 

I could hear water trickling in the distance. Encouraged, I walked faster. 

When I got to the stream, I saw April sitting beside it, staring at the water. She didn't look up when I came and sat on the ground by her. "Hi." 

She threw a pebble into the water. "You shouldn't have followed me." 

"April, we have to go back to class," I told her. "We'll get in trouble." 

She threw another pebble. "I don't care." 

"April, why are you acting so weird?" I asked her. "You're so different now." 

"Does it matter?" This pebble hit a tree across the stream, and bounced into the water. 

"Are you mad at me?" I asked, my voice trembling. 

Now she looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm not mad at you, Tom. You're the only person who matters to me anymore." 

I took a deep breath, wondering if I'd find the courage to put my fears into words. "Does it have anything to do with why you're always getting hurt now?" 

The tears spilled over, and she buried her face in her hands. "He didn't mean to!" She cried. "He's just so worried about my mom being sick, and I get in his way when I'm not supposed to!" 

"April, who's 'he?'" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I'd only met her father twice, but he always made me uneasy. 

She took a shaky breath and whispered "My dad." 

I hugged her, half afraid she would pull away. She didn't, though, and threw her arms around me as she sobbed against my shoulder. "April, it wasn't your fault." 

She drew back slightly and sniffed. "You have to promise you won't tell anyone." 

She looked terrified, and I wanted to promise that I wouldn't tell anyone, and her secret would be safe with me. But I couldn't. "April, I can't." 

"Tom, you have to promise!" She cried. "He'll be so mad at me!" 

"I can't," I repeated. She started to pull away from me, and I put my hand on her arm to keep her from leaving altogether. "My dad used to hit my mom. No one should ever do something like that to anyone." 

April was still staring at me with tears running down her cheeks. "I never knew, Tom." 

"I know it's scary now," I told her, "But things are so much better for my mom and me since we left my dad. And they will be for you too." 

She hugged me again. "Just don't go away again, Tom. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised. "Not without you, I'm not. When I grow up and get out of here, I'm taking you with me." 

I hugged her until she finished crying, and gave her a Kleenex to wipe her nose. Then we started back for the school, hand in hand, to talk to our teacher. 


End file.
